A/N: Just a little one shot. This is a result of me being bored on a thirty minute bus ride. Enjoy!

A Mother's Thoughts

For a long time I've been afraid of death.

John. The love of my life. I feared for his safety. You hear about muggings. People using brutality to get a few extra bucks. There were times that my husband would be in the streets after dark. We didn't always live in nice neighborhoods. He could always be in a car accident. Maybe he would fall asleep at the wheel after a double shift. Maybe a college frat boy would lose control of his car after a Friday night party. There were always the risks of injuries on the job, as well. I can remember being up late at night, not being able to sleep because my fear that he wouldn't come back to me was so strong.

I would never have thought that I could be more scared than I was then. I knew different the day John pulled the car into the driveway and helped me get Dean out of his car seat. It didn't sink in until that moment. I never thought about my child's safety when the doctor confirmed the pregnancy test, or when the ultra sound showed him to me for the very first time, or even the first time I held him. It wasn't real until John was carefully cradling our son in his arms, as he ushered me into the house.

Dean was so small. I had seen babies before and I knew that they were fragile, but my baby boy was different. He was so tiny that I was afraid to touch him at first, thinking how easily he could break. John told me I was being silly. He was a newborn, of course we had to be careful, but we couldn't put him in a bubble. Even with the words, I knew he understood. He was just as scared as I was.

As Dean grew up I only feared for him more. He was a little ball of energy, not caring what he got into as long as it was a new adventure. I knew children could be fearless, but boy! I'm surprised my hair wasn't grey by the time he turned three. Those fears were heart stopping at first, but amusing afterwards. It was my own imagination while laying in bed at night that really frightened me. There were so many scenarios where I lost Dean.

I had four years to familiarize myself with this paranoia. By the time Sam came I was over freaking out about the smallest of problems. I felt that after the trials Dean had put me through, I could handle anything. Of course I was still scared. That's what parents are for; but I didn't worry as much.

My men were my life. I loved them with everything I had. I couldn't imagine losing any of them, but I obsessed about it constantly. I always thought about death, but I never thought it was my own that I would have to face first.

Ironically, of the three men in my life I had feared for Sam with the least intensity. How could I have known that he was the one who needed the protection. I would have protected my baby from anything, I still would. I have no regrets that I died for Sammy. He was meant for something greater, I just knew it.

The first time my heart truly broke happened after it had already stopped beating. I felt nothing but a deep sorrow as John tried to explain to Dean that mommy wasn't coming home. Would never come home. They were both crying. I was crying.

My funeral was something else. It's odd seeing your own body getting lowered into the ground. John and Dean stood together while my mother held Sam. It was depressing to see my perfect, little family dressed in black. My mother was openly crying, with my father doing the same. Sam was watching everything around him with wide eyes. I wondered if he knew what was happening. John and Dean were the hardest to look at. Neither had tears, but looked about to burst from the emotion they held inside. Dean's small hand was holding his father's, hardly noticing that John's larger hand clung to his just as tightly.

My attention was drawn to Sam again. What would all of this mean for him? After my death it became very apparent to me that there was more to this world than met the eye. There were things out there that weren't human and one of those things had come after my son. John knew something was not right. He had seen me in Sam's nursery, I remember that much. Would he ignore what had happened? And if he did find out, would he blame Sam? Would he look at my baby boy different?

If John had thought differently of our son, I never noticed. As the years passed he worked hard to fight these other creatures. I was glad he hadn't ignored it, though it was not the life I had wanted for my family. I wasn't happy that he was raising our boys to be soldiers, but I understood. He wanted to keep them safe, he always had. I never once lost faith in his decisions... until Sam was nineteen.

It could be said that Sam was born in a shadow. I wasn't as afraid for him because I had Dean. He grew up in that shadow. I could see it. Dean was always the better soldier and sometimes, that was all that John wanted from them. It was hard to watch Sam's disappointment when Dean was praised for something that Sam would never be. It was hard to see him fight for his independence and lose. The hardest was seeing the fear and sorrow in his eyes when his father told him to never come back. I wanted the best for my Sammy. I wanted what he wanted. That was all that should have mattered

I could never look at John the same again. He never realized that in his failed attempt to reign in his soldier he had pushed Sam even farther away, severely harming both of his sons. Dean and Sam were both a wreck without their other half. Dean was, of course, more held together about it. He hid it well. It was one of the traits he learned after my death, and I despised it.

What hurt even more than all of that was when they both started to pick up the pieces. They adapted to the lives their father had forced them into. It was heart wrenching to see Dean cross their lines and watch his little brother, always from a distance. However, I knew that nothing would keep those two apart, not even the great John Winchester. They would find their way back to each other.

I was ecstatic when they did, and then my heart broke again. My poor Sammy. The only woman he could remember loving was pinned above his head in a shower of blood and flames. How could he not blame himself for this. The two most important woman in his life died above his bed, killed by something that none of us understand. I don't know what he would have done if Dean wasn't there. I'm grateful that Sam went with his brother, because together they were safe.

I watch them now, both getting their injuries, emotional and physical. They stay together, searching for the only person left to make their family whole again.

I don't think John realizes how much he hurts them. He left Dean alone when John was all Dean had. I know that's Dean's greatest fear, being alone. And Sam... he just wants to be his own man. John can't see that.

However angry John has made me, again I fear for him the most. He's close to finding the thing that came after Sam. The thing that killed me. Sometimes it's so obvious that this hunt is the only thing keeping him going. What happens when he finds it? Will he give up? For my boys' sakes, I hope he sees how much they need him. They need him to finally be their father.

For a long time I've been afraid of death.

I still am.

The End

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